


I Don't Smoke

by heckmedic



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, heavymedic is only implied, tags to be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6414016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckmedic/pseuds/heckmedic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But Sniper wasn't lucky and now he was sitting there in his van staring at his own pale attempt at finding casual sex, wondering if the BLU Spy's offer had been a joke to rile him or something entirely serious.</p>
<p>It was so difficult to decide, looking back on memories of that confrontation. Maybe he'd find the answer at the bottom of the brown bottle in front of him.</p>
<p>Four bottles and one wobbly piss in the toilet later and he still didn't know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Can't Flirt

**Author's Note:**

> Currently writing the smut chapter for this, but I can't decide which way is best to write Spy. I made a strawpoll here, if you want to vote [Strawpoll](http://strawpoll.me/7235419)

Sniper made a point of avoiding vices. Sure, he wasn't above a few pints of beer now and again, but drugs and cigarettes? There surely wasn't anything more repulsive. It was just one more reason to hate that sneaky, good-for-nothing bastard. A frown flittered onto Sniper's face as he watched that same bastard neatly plant a knife in the back of their Engineer. He brought the rifle scope to his eye, lined up the shot, and made sure the BLU Spy knew that one was for karma.

In the earlier days, they'd kept tally. _One more for me, Bushman,_ he'd say before slitting his throat, or shooting him point blank, or killing him in the innumerably creative ways that the Frenchman apparently knew.

"One nil, mate" Sniper muttered, before picking up his equipment and fleeing the hide. It wasn't a good idea to stay in one place after getting one up on the BLU; he held grudges and would now be out for Sniper's blood.

Sniper was ok with that.

Whilst his hatred for the enemy Spy had only grown, their...Rapport had grown ever more complicated, and Sniper...Well, the less said about how he felt about things, the better. He found a new hide relatively easily and he scoped the area out before settling down and making sure he didn't have his back to the door. Alone and waiting for an opportunity to strike, those mixed-up thoughts were quick to find him.

BADLANDS, TWO WEEKS AGO.

The Spy made no effort to hide the sound of his decloaking. Sniper was on his feet and had his kukri at the ready immediately. Heart racing, Sniper lunged and the Spy, rolling his eyes, sidestepped the blade and tapped the ash from the end of his cigarette. Sniper growled and lunged again, with the same result. He could smell the other man's expensive cologne as he skimmed past.

"How long are you going to do this before you realise I am not here to fight, bushman?"

The nasal drawl enraged Sniper and he switched his grip on the knife, going now for a backhand slash. It was an inelegant attack and Spy, realising a truce would require a little more work, caught Sniper's wrist and by pivoting on his heel, deftly pinned Sniper's arm behind him.

"Leggo o' me!" Sniper hissed, thrashing and bucking in Spy's iron grip. Spy sighed again and in reply, twisted Sniper's arm, forcing him to drop the kukri with a cry. Gunfire rattled dimly outside; in the hide, there was no sound other than Sniper's ragged breathing and his boots scuffing on the wooden floorboards.

"I would like to speak with you." Spy said lowly and carefully. Sniper felt the hot end of his cigarette dancing beside his ear. It made his skin crawl.

"Not bloody likely." he returned with a huff of exertion.

Spy sighed in disgust and without warning, threw Sniper forwards. When Sniper regained his feet and turned back, fists at the ready, Spy was gone.

"I will return another time. Please try to be a little more accommodating, hmm?"

There were no footsteps to be heard leaving the hide. No pieces of fallen paper stirred. The man was a goddamn ghost and Sniper hated him for it.

In spite of the excellent spot he'd found, he snatched up his kukri from the floor, shouldered his rifle and went to find another hide.

PRESENT TIME

The afternoon air was hot and thick, pregnant with the humid promise of rain. Through his scope, Sniper could see tumultuous storm clouds roiling on the horizon. Dipping down, he carefully tracked the path of the BLU Demoman across the open space, picking him off just before he rounded the corner. He'd yet to see the BLU Spy emerge from respawn, or otherwise give himself away. Sniper refused the thought that he could be cloaked, standing in the doorway, watching his every move. He could smell smoke on the air, and was undecided as to whether it was from a cigarette or a Pyro's flamethrower.

The frown on his face deepened.

BADLANDS, 10 DAYS AGO

The Spy returned to him a few days later and again, they made that same ridiculous dance as all of Sniper's anger and adrenaline fell on deaf ears. This time, however, Sniper held up his hands and pointedly dropped the kukri before stepping back.

"Ok, spook. Let's have this little chat you were talkin' about."

The kukri felt a million miles away now as Spy huffed a sigh of relief and reached into his jacket. Sniper tensed and Spy fixed him with a steely glare.

"Relax. I'm only getting a cigarette."

Sniper didn't relax. Not until the cancer stick was between Spy's lips and smouldering. Apparently ignoring Sniper, Spy's eyes fluttered closed as he drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He opened his eyes again and Sniper returned his searching look, infinitely cautious but more than a little curious. Spy remained aloof.

"I understand that both of us are pressed for time, as it were, so I shall not mince words. I understand that you are looking for a partnership of sorts."

Sniper's pupils shrank to pinpoints behind his aviators and he swallowed uneasily before trying to hide his shock.

"I don't know what you're talking about, mate."

A sly smile moved onto Spy's lips and he reached into his jacket again, this time withdrawing a slim white business card. He held it up between two fingers, and though Sniper couldn't see what was written on the other side, he knew damn well what it was.

The hide fell away around him and suddenly it's smooth, pale floorboards beneath his feet. The bowling alley is rowdy and bustling and it's making him uncomfortable, but it's the only place in town that he knows to have a corkboard. He casts his eyes over it and the colourful scraps of paper pinned up there. Adverts, contact information, flyers, lost pets, events. There's a small section in the corner with two badly cut-out pink love hearts pinned above it and there are many small business cards. On each one, there's a name and a phone number and maybe a few sentences. Sniper reads the one he's got in his hand before tacking it up and ducking out of the doors:

_Middle-aged Australian man looking for something casual and longterm. Available only at weekends. Call, and dinner's on me._

And then there was a phone number, which he knew to be the same number that belonged to one of the nine untraceable phones hung on the wall of the RED intelligence room. This particular untraceable landline was rarely used and had a piece of white tape over the handset helpfully labelled in capital letters SNIPER.

The delicate sound of the card hitting the floor snapped him back into the hide, where he was no more than five feet away from a man who was paid horrendous sums of money to kill him on sight. The white card, still face down, looked as though it could begin sinking through the floorboards. He stared at it stupidly for a moment before meeting Spy's guarded and intense gaze. For a moment, he was uncertain what to say. He swallowed uneasily again and tried to keep his voice even;

"Look, mate, I ain't queer-"

Spy snorts a little laugh at that and gestures to the card, which somehow stared accusingly at Sniper from across the hide.

"And yet you did not specify that you were looking for a woman."

"That doesn't mean I'm gonna let some guy fuck me-"

Spy's snort of mirth had blossomed into a full blown laugh then, something deep and animal that started in his chest and came out as a purr. He tapped the ash off of his cigarette delicately and moved to the door, gesturing at the fallen card once more.

"Then I would be careful what you put next time, mon ami, often more can be learned from what is _not_ written than what _is_."

And then he was gone.

Sniper stared at the open doorway before diving for the card and shoving it into his pocket and as an afterthought, picking up the kukri. Honestly, the card felt a whole lot more threatening right then.

PRESENT TIME

The smell of smoke cleared away and silence fell over the battlefield. He saw their Scout dart into cover distantly and he picked off the Heavy that was chasing after him. Easy work, so long as he kept his guard up. A glance at the door and he settled back down again.

He had not expected any of the mercenaries to find that little, unassuming white card. For one, he didn't even know if any of them went to the bowling alley at the weekends. Secondly, he seriously doubted any of the others, BLU or RED, would be trying to pick up dates via a communal pin board. Thirdly, he'd been careful to make sure he didn't give his identity away as company rules asked and so the only way someone would be able to recognise him was via the phone number, and the only people alive who knew that number were Miss Pauling, Administration, Sniper's parents and, presumably, the other RED mercs.

Now, of course, there was at least one BLU who also knew that number.

Sniper had the feeling Spy wasn't the sort to share that sort of thing around. Then again, he'd been wrong plenty of times before.

BADLANDS, EIGHT DAYS AGO

The card had remained in his pocket until the end of battle and he could safely lock himself away in his van with a bottle of beer and his thoughts. Sitting at the cramped table, he plucked it from his trousers and turned it over in the dim light. The black biro still read the same. On an impulse, he grabbed a UV flashlight from the emergency kit he kept under the table (UV was excellent for picking out the trails left by certain animals) and flashed it over the card, front and back. No writing in invisible ink glowed there, no number or message or jibe from a BLU Spy. He was both relieved and disappointed. Spies were supposed to be into all that secret message junk, right?

Wrong. The only insult Spy needed to give him was the card itself. Damn him and the loophole he'd found. In truth, Sniper had hoped for little more than maybe a steak shared with a pretty woman, perhaps a quick tumble in the sheets if he was lucky. He wasn't a talkative man, but travelling the world learning to kill people had taught him a few tricks and he'd developed his own brand of flirting over the years. It would be nothing that dashing BLU rogue would be caught doing, of course, but Sniper had entertained idle daydreams during long work days of sitting across from some pretty lady and seeing if he still had the touch. Sometimes that lady was the cheerful redhead who he saw waiting tables at his favourite diner, other times it was the older brunette woman who he sometimes exchanged words with when waiting for his clothes to finish at the laundrette. They weren't the princesses and supermodels the BLU Spy undoubtedly had the privilege of spending time with, but they were both attractive in their own ways and Sniper had developed fleeting affections for these acquaintances.

If it was the redhead, he'd take off his aviators, bother shaving, heck, maybe even dig out that white shirt he kept pressed and laundered in the back of his wardrobe. He'd try to be warm and charming and coax that bright smile and bubbly laugh out of her and when she leaned her elbows on the table to listen to some story he would weave, he'd lean forwards too and jokingly kiss the end of her nose. If he was lucky, that bold streak in her would come out and the scent of his aftershave would prompt her to yank on his collar and pull him in for a proper kiss. She'd rush through the last of her meal and make some excuse to get something from her car to put in the stock cupboard at work and oh, wouldn't he help her, 'cause crates of cleaning spray were heavy. And he'd say, sure, miss, I can do that, and as soon as they were under the harsh orange light of the car park streetlamps, she'd pull him in again and this time it'd be all teeth and breathy moans as he shows he what he can do in the cramped space in the back of a red Cadillac convertible.

If it was the brunette, he'd keep a little more to himself, get her to tell the stories. He'd play that card he was secretly proud of, the amber of his eyes that perfectly matched the lenses of his glasses and she'd return to the room from whatever old memory she was revisiting for him, only to see those piercing amber eyes watching her patiently and attentively. If he was lucky there, she'd swallow delicately and fiddle with her napkin or something, maybe leave him a phone number at the end of the night and the address to a neat little house on the suburbs and a bed with crisp cotton sheets and the scent of lavender and her on the pillows. She'd sigh and breathe as softly as the wind outside as they moved together, putting wrinkles into the bedlinen and lovebites on each other's necks.

If he was lucky, either of those ladies or someone entirely different but just as suitable would've found that card and the BLU Spy would've stuck to his platinum blonde babes and prim government officials.

But Sniper wasn't lucky and now he was sitting there in his van staring at his own pale attempt at finding casual sex, wondering if the BLU Spy's offer had been a joke to rile him or something entirely serious.

It was so difficult to decide, looking back on memories of that confrontation. Maybe he'd find the answer at the bottom of the brown bottle in front of him.

Four bottles and one wobbly piss in the toilet later and he still didn't know.

BADLANDS FOUR DAYS AGO

Another day, another mission. Sniper brought the scope to his eye, sighted up the BLU Scout, and fired. The fine mist of red prompted a satisfied smirk on his face. From the doorway of the hide, the BLU Spy watched him, cloaked and silent. He glanced down the corridor, ensuring the escape route was clear, before drawing a breath and addressing the Australian;

"I never did get an answer, mon ami."

"Bloody fucking hell-"

"Yes, yes, yes, now that's over with, we can be straight with each other.” Spy said impatiently, uncloaking and revealing his nonchalant stance as he leant a shoulder against the door frame. A flurry of emotions crossed Sniper's face before he settled on guarded impatience.

"Oh. It's you."

He rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Yes, it's me. Are you surprised?"

"Yes-no. Hold on-"

Spy sighed and invited himself into the hide. Sniper immediately stepped back, cautious as always.

"I...Apologise for any unease I may have caused you when I returned that card to you."

"Nah-heck, it was just...Unexpected, is all."

"Well. If you aren't going to take me up on my offer-which was entirely serious-you need only say and from now on whenever I catch you like this, I will kill you. That is fair, non?"

Spy turned to leave and Sniper found himself reaching out, stepping forwards and saying

"No! Wait! Let's just-talk about this."

Spy's eyes took on a curious glint when he heard that and the motions he made after were all feline elegance and grace. He even tilted his head a little, as if he really was a goddamn cat. Sniper refused to admit himself the thought that he enjoyed the other man's ways of moving.

The ways he might yet show him he had of moving.

"I am listening."

He hadn't expected this. Any of this. Now there was a maybe-welcoming partner in front of him and he was going to fuck everything up like he always did. Sniper nervously ran a hand through his hair, forced himself to try and relax his shoulders.

"Heck...God, ok. So, you weren't, uh, havin' me on, y'know, before?"

"Of course not." Spy replied, utterly perplexed. If he was lying, it was the best one Sniper had heard come out of his mouth for while.

"Um. Ok. Still tryin' to get used to the idea you'd even want anythin' to do with me" Sniper said and he meant it as he gestured helplessly to himself. If Spy was going to fuck anyone, surely it'd be his RED counterpart? He wasn't going to get anything graceful or handsome or flirtatious out of Sniper.

He was all too aware of how fundamentally different they were. Spy, in his expensive tailored suit and he in worn old leather and denim. He, too tall and wiry and Spy, all lean and lissom. The train of thought that was quickly running away with him was abruptly brought to a halt as Spy made his way into Sniper's personal space, having no issues with asserting himself even though he was two inches shorter.

Sniper could smell bitter smoke on the other man's breath and shivers raced up his spine. The sounds of gunfire outside melted away as his thundering heartbeat filled his range of hearing. Spy's eyes glittered in the dim sunlight as he delicately skipped fingers along the buttons of Sniper's shirt, his gloved nails making each tic-tac muffled.

"You truly have no idea, do you?" Spy said, not giving Sniper room to say anything as he leant forwards onto the balls of his feet to murmur in Sniper's ear;

"I want _everything_ to do with you."

And of course the accent made each syllable into a lustful purr and Sniper felt all of the blood blushing in his face leave south to carry out more important functions. But all too quickly, Spy had returned to his feet and had stepped back towards the doorway, framing a burst of invisibility with the buttons on his watch. Sniper awkwardly took a step forwards, seized a handful of the expensive tailoring of Spy's jacket.

"Wait. Hold on. Y'can't just leave after sayin' something like that."

Spy coolly finished setting his watch before removing the hand on his shoulder.

"Why not?"

Sniper swallowed and hardened his expression. Now or never.

"'Cause I ain't done talking to ya."

"What else is there to say?"

"You. Me. Friday night. The motel on the east side of town."

"How will I know what room?"

"I'll call you with the number."

That cool, cat-like glitter returned to Spy's eyes before he neatly removed a business card from his pocket and used a sleek silver pen to jot down a number on it.

Then, with little warning, he stood up on the balls of his feet again and pressed his lips to Sniper's. It was only a brief, fleeting thing, but Sniper's eyes still fluttered closed as smoke and a sly grin ghosted over his lips. Spy deftly placed the business card in Sniper's pocket whilst they were still close. When Spy broke away and Sniper opened his eyes again a moment later, there was nothing but softly shimmering air where he had just stood.

Sniper stood dumbly in the doorway, wondering what exactly he had just arranged.

BADLANDS, THREE DAYS AGO

If there was one place on base that Sniper avoided like the plague, it was Infirmary. It was Medic's domain, and best let well alone unless absolutely necessary. Sniper supposed that what he was in there for wasn't, but what he was after couldn't be readily bought in town, and he didn't have any of his own.

It'd been a while.

Thankfully, Medic usually kept the Infirmary unlocked, and at that moment in time, he was upstairs playing chess with Heavy. The Infirmary was deserted and that only made Sniper feel ten times more uneasy as he snooped around in search of something he wasn't even sure Medic kept around.

_Ok. If I were a crazy German doctor, where would I keep things that aren't medication, tools or bandages?_

Sniper guessed he had about half an hour until Medic returned from his game. That gave Sniper half an hour to search the most disorganized space in the base for an object maybe half as long as his pinky finger.

The metal of the medicine cabinet drawers felt cold against his hands as he began to carefully rifle through Medic's inventory. He was on edge the entire time, cursing under his breath each time his searching yielded no results. Fifteen minutes later, with no success, he closed the remaining cabinet door and slumped back against it, wracking his brain for any fresh ideas.

"Christ. Ok."

He'd give himself five more minutes, then he'd scarper. Anything more was cutting it too close.

The silence of the room was complete. Muffled laughter suddenly came down through the ceiling, Medic's high cackle contrasted with Heavy's deeper, chestier laugh. Sniper's eyes snapped open and he stamped down a snigger of his own as he glanced over to Medic's desk. Papers littered it, spilling over onto the floor, and the chair was kicked back against the wall.

"Surely not..." he muttered, stalking over to the desk and standing behind it. Resting his fingertips lightly on the edge, Sniper smirked and tapped a little rhythm of thought. He looked at the chair, then the scattered papers. The knocked over ink bottle by the side and the displaced letter rack on the corner. Carefully positioning his feet on the floor, Sniper leant forwards and ghosted hot breath over the polished surface of the desk. As he had expected, two vaguely-hand shaped marks showed up before melting away again. Sniper leant forwards and placed his hands over the top of them. His smirk widened into a grin as he felt the awkward position he had put himself in, and the excellent access it might give someone to his ass.

No wonder Medic had been spending so much time with Heavy.

The drawers of the desk were much smaller than those in the medicine cabinets and contained little aside from papers. Careful to leave everything as he had found it, Sniper dug around for what he was almost certain was in the desk.

"Ah ha!"

He removed the little snap-top bottle from the desk drawer and studied the label in the light. It was written all in German, but he was fairly sure he had what he was looking for. Closing the drawers and leaving the Infirmary quietly, Sniper was by then too far away to hear Medic's cry of frustration when he and Heavy stumbled into the Infirmary a few minutes later in a state of undress, only to find that Medic's desk was empty of the little bottle they'd been getting so much use out of.

BADLANDS, TWO DAYS AGO

The motel room had been easy enough to book. The hard part now was convincing himself to ring that number written down with a flourish on the business card he was turning over uneasily in his hand. The phone waited, ready to be brought to his ear, in his other hand.

The Intelligence room wasn't the place he'd choose to make a steamy phone call to a maybe-hopefully future lover. It was dark and musty in there and the bare bulb overhead flickered apathetically as Sniper felt himself get increasingly agitated. What if Spy didn't take his call? What if one of the other BLU's did? What if Administration was keeping taps on all their calls-

In that moment, he reminded himself of the vivid scent of Spy's cologne, how it had been strongest around his collarbone and settled around his head when Spy had kissed him. Shivering in the cold of the Intelligence room and in pleasant recollection, Sniper didn't allow himself another moment to worry as he punched in the numbers and brought the phone to his ear.

It rang thirteen times before finally picking up.

"Oui?"

Jesus Christ.

He was actually on the fucking phone with one of the BLUs-one of the BLUs who wanted to fuck him-

All the moisture left Sniper's mouth as he listened to the increasingly irritable silence spreading over the line.

"Room 507" He blurted eventually, cringing as his voice cracked on the last number.

He thought Spy was going to hang up on him as the silence stretched out like taffy between them. Eventually, there was the sound of discreet amusement before Spy replied simply:

"I will be waiting expectantly, _cher_."

And then the phone went dead in his hand.

"Holy shit." He muttered to himself as he returned it to the hook gingerly. Somehow, he expected it to shriek at him, or for Administration to come down on him like a ton of hot bricks.

But the phone didn't ring and the alarm didn't sound and Sniper walked all the way back to his van with a giddy smile on his face.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: Everyone voted for Sniper bottoming and Spy being encouraging on the Strawpoll, so that's what ya'll are getting. There will, however, be a third chapter featuring the runner-up choice and a "2nd round" of sorts. Stay tuned for more.

BADLANDS, PRESENT TIME

Booms of thunder echoed out across the battle as the burgeoning clouds in the distance finally set free their cargo. The arms of the clock hung lop-sidedly on the wall were pointing at five to four. Both eager and nervous, Sniper hazarded the last five minutes of the match and began to break down his weapon, unscrewing the barrel of the rifle from the chamber and setting aside the remaining ammunition. If the BLUs really felt like picking on him so late in the day, there was always the SMG holstered comfortably at his hip or the kukri within easy reach.

Mercifully, he was left alone as the final bell sounded and results were announced. A tie-that would put the others in a funny mood. Sniper had no intentions of hanging around for the drinking and poker games later though.

He had a date.

As he returned his arms to his locker in the Armoury, he was careful to avoid the eyes of Medic, and not to listen too closely to the placations Heavy was murmuring to him. Sniper felt bad for having stolen from the Infirmary, but from what he could hear, they were getting along fine without it. So they were having to be creative. Big deal. Sniper needed that bottle a whole lot more than they did.

He wondered if Spy would dive into things straight away, or if he'd tease him a little first-

Sniper forced himself to draw a deep, steady breath and think of his grandmother when his boxers began to feel tight. Once he felt that he had a handle on himself, he locked his locker and slipped out of the Armoury as quietly as he could.

He didn't want to take the camper all the way down to town; it was a pain and truthfully he didn't want Spy to think he was uncivilized or homeless or something. The bastard probably knew already anyway. So instead, he took the key for one of the pickup trucks off the hook beside the door to the garage and disappeared before anyone could miss him. He'd already loaded the vehicle with a bag with clean clothes in it, a tooth brush and razor. His ill-gotten gain from Infirmary was in there too, and a couple of foil-wrapped condoms in case the one he kept in his wallet wasn't enough.

The wind tussled his hair as he drove down the barren, dusty road towards town. Electricity from the nearing storm hung thickly in the air and Sniper had the impression that if he touched a hand to the doorframe, sparks would fly from it. There was a concern in his mind that Spy would already be there, waiting. He was aware of the fact that no time for this dalliance had been arranged, and that the other man could turn up in five minutes or five hours. Impatient and keyed-up as he was, Sniper hoped it would be the latter.

He figured the motel room could do with a bit of a spruce up. When he arrived, red dust tracked up the sides of the pickup, he was right. A fan turned lethargically in the air of the foyer as Sniper signed in and picked up his key from a bored clerk. He felt that any moment now, some cry of alarm would go up. Thankfully, he'd never had to experience getting caught with another man before. But back home, where people were either light-years ahead or miles behind the rest of civilization in the world, men bedding other men wasn't looked upon too kindly. He'd heard horror stories on the ranch from the hands who drifted in and out with the seasonal livestock drives. Tales of men being beaten to death in back alleys, or of the more effeminate ones being gang raped.

He'd never been caught. But there was a first time for everything.

Hopefully Spy would be as careful as Sniper hoped he would be.

Once inside the little, sparse room, Sniper shut the door behind himself quietly and let out a sigh of relief. He threw the bag on the bed and took a moment to stretch, calming his nerves with that practiced motion. Breathe in, breathe out. Cultivate patience when he just wanted to pace the room. He didn't allow himself to question the health of using the same mantra as he did before taking a shot whilst waiting for his date.

He didn't have to do too much to the room to make it a little more welcoming. Room service had graced the little coffee table with a bunch of wild daisies displayed in a clear glass vase and the windows opened wide enough to keep the place cool. A small, scented candle was dug out of the bottom of the bag and he set it atop the dresser, torn for a good ten minutes as to whether to actually light it or not. It gave off a pleasant smell of fresh roses and vanilla anyway, so he decided to leave it.

The bottle of lube he'd stolen from the Infirmary stared at him accusingly from the bathroom shelf as he shaved. It'd been a while since he'd felt the need to do that, too, and the last thing he wanted to greet Spy with was little dots of toilet paper pressed all over his jaw. A clock ticked from somewhere in the main room, easy ambience to focus on so he didn't tense up every time he heard a door open downstairs. Eventually, he couldn't drag that out any longer and he was faced with one last decision to make.

He stared at the lube as though he expected it to bite him.

When he'd been younger and considerably more rambunctious in bedroom matters, he'd had just as much fun taking as giving where men were concerned, and there had been a good handful of those amongst his hormone-induced conquests. That had been nearly ten years ago though, and he found surprisingly old apprehensions creeping up on him. Just as he had then, he cured himself of his fears with patience and feeling his way around.

Gracelessly, he unzipped his trousers and hung them neatly over the edge of the bath before shucking out of his boxers. He lamented briefly the lack of gloves he had, and instead made do with imagination. Slowly, barely touching himself at all, he ran his hands up and down his legs. In his mind's eye, those hands were smaller, more delicate, clad in tight black leather. He fancied he could feel the coolness of that as his hands drifted over his chest, chilling him through the fabric of his shirt. The scent of smoke invaded his scene unbidden and he felt heat begin to coalesce in his belly.

Fumbling only briefly with the cap, he lubed up his fingers and hiked a knee up on the edge of the sink, pressing his cheek to the icy porcelain before closing his eyes again. He ignored the flicker of revulsion that came from the sensation of slime circling his hole and focused instead on the other hand rubbing soothingly on his thigh.

Firmly but carefully, he slipped a finger inside himself up to the first knuckle, breathing heavily through his nose and forcing himself to relax as he worked the rest of the finger in. Heat surrounded his digit and added to the lazy thermals roiling in his belly. He hissed when his motions put the head of his half-hard cock against the cold edge of the sink, pressing on anyways.

The fantasy decked itself out more fully as he took time adding in a second finger, scissoring gently to try and relax muscles that were so unused to such sensations. The image of a lean, lithe body pressed up against his own sent shivers along his spine. He wanted desperately to touch himself and come already, but some distant part of his mind held firm to why he was doing this at all and so he left himself alone, whining softly under his breath when he grazed his prostate by accident. He wanted to save himself for Spy, and try to eke out this unexpected pleasure as long as possible. Ten minutes later, he forced himself to stop and shakily dismount the sink, feeling as though he was leaving something for another man to finish.

Unbeknownst to him, the same man who was the object of his fantasies was standing cloaked in the doorway. The shadow he cast on the tiled floor was only very faint, and he had not moved a muscle since he'd seen Sniper close his eyes and begin running his hands over himself ten minutes ago. He was painfully hard and chafing against his briefs, but Spy shared in Sniper's logic, forcing himself to wait in the safe knowledge that he'd find release later. He forced himself to take deep, even breaths and remain silent even though he wanted to moan at the sight before him. With a great deal of effort, he moved away from the door to the bathroom and slipped out into the corridor.

He forced himself to hover for another five minutes, giving Sniper time to retain some modicum of decency. He was glad he'd taken the time to change out of his uniform as Sniper had; the white button-down and grey slacks were fairly casual by his standards, but it was nice to go without the mask and gloves for a while. BLU had such a ridiculous dress code. As he forced himself to wait, Spy silently uncloaked in front of Sniper's door and he vainly studied himself in the dull brassy-mirror of the room number.

The Time Bitch hadn't been especially mean to him. The crow's-feet around his eyes made him look distinguished and the touches of grey in his hair added to the raffish charm of the faint stubble gracing his jaw. His eyes were as piercing and lupine as the day he had first shot a man and he hadn’t lost the knack for a roguish smile even years after he’d first made himself practice it in front of a mirror.

He resisted the urge to adjust cufflinks he wasn’t wearing and made himself take a deep breath.

_Easy, René. Learn to relax, for once._

His gloves did little to muffle the distinctive rap he gave on the door. Unknown to Spy, that sound prompted a string of curses from Sniper, who fumbled with the zip on his pants and hisses when he managed to catch his pubic hair in the teeth. Forcing himself to slow down, he sorted himself out and attempted to neaten his hair before opening the door.

Whatever he’d been planning on saying disappeared as soon as Spy smiled at him. It was an expression made to disarm and damn him for a giddy schoolboy, but it worked. Sniper felt prickles race down his spine as his jaw worked, looking for words.

“May I come in?”

“I-uh-“ Spy took that as invitation enough, as he manoeuvred past Sniper and glanced around the room. Still standing in the doorway, Sniper took a moment to study the carpet in order to collect himself. Spy resisted the urge to smile at the daisies and candle; who would’ve pegged the RED Sniper as a romantic? Still, he appreciated the gesture and mourned briefly the bottle of red wine he’d ended up leaving back at base. He would have loved to have tasted that particular vintage from another man’s lips.

Spy also resisted the temptation to glance at the bathroom door. Images of what he had witnessed flittered into his mind and he felt his trousers tighten again. Those thoughts were cut off as he heard Sniper move over to fetch something from a bag cast at the foot of the bed. Spy could smell the aftershave he’d rubbed on his jaw and he was pleasantly surprised to have noticed the absence of Sniper’s usual signature stubble. The clean-shaven look suited him...Or, perhaps, Spy was biased towards skin which didn’t prickle against his own.

“So,” Sniper began as he continued to root around, “No mask?”

“Did you think it was not part of company dress code?”

Sniper shrugged. “Always got the impression from our Spy that it wasn’t.”

“Well, that is the sort of intelligence I would expect that buffoon to display.” Spy replied haughtily. Even without his suit and polished Italian shoes, he still managed to exude an air of grandeur and sophistication. Sniper was quickly feeling like his shave and candle and cologne wasn’t enough effort to even begin to compete. He was still partially convinced this was an elaborate hoax. Eventually, his hands clinked against what he was looking for and he rose, producing two bottles of beer. They were still a little cold and the glass chilled his hands as droplets of condensation rolled over his skin.

“You, uh, want one?”

“Lukewarm beer and a seedy motel room? Consider me seduced.” He hoped that the laughter in his voice lessened the sting of those words. It must’ve done, because Sniper grinned and handed over one of the bottles. He remembered then that he hadn’t brought a bottle opener and cursed softly.

“Snap, lemme take that back for a sec.” With some ease, he gripped the bottle top and pulled it off with the clenched muscles in the palm of his hand. Spy looked surprised, but hid it quickly. Such strength in those hands! The wonderful marks they could leave...

He disguised his blush with a sip of beer, a twin hiss audible as Sniper opened his own bottle the same way. Unfortunately, his foamed over and he looked down in dismay at the beer spotting the carpet darkly. Would nothing go right today?

Spy took the opportunity as it presented itself. He had no troubles moving into Sniper’s personal space again and delicately lifting the bottle out of his grip.

“Careful, mon ami.” He said lowly, not breaking Sniper’s gaze as he set the bottle and his own down on the bedside table, “You wouldn’t want to...Make a mess.”

The way the taller man’s throat bobbed at that was delicious and Spy didn’t bother to hide the lewd way he licked his lips as he imagined fastening them over that same spot on Sniper’s throat.

“Nah...But I’m not above leavin’ a few marks.” He returned before leaning down and capturing Spy’s lips.

The second time they kissed possessed ten times the fire of the first. Spy practically writhed against him. Within seconds, hands were roaming and both of them were moaning into each other’s mouths. There was something about Sniper which he could only describe as wild, a wiriness of body and quickness of hands that in another situation might have brought to mind something canine and carnivorous.

But it was Spy who was the one to bite first, nipping flirtatiously at Sniper’s lower lip and revelling in the undone groan that produced. As Spy leant away slightly so as to have room to begin unbuttoning Sniper’s shirt, the taller man followed him as though chasing his lips, eyes half lidded. Both of them were now feeling confined by their clothing, that heady kiss having stoked them to full hardness again. As Spy worked each little button undone with painstaking care, Sniper felt electricity race under his skin when Spy’s fingertips brushed his chest. Those burning touches made him feel as though he was being touched by lightning and he wondered why he had left is so long since he took a man to his bed.

It was suddenly too much and it’d been too long, far too long, so with a restrained growl, Sniper batted Spy’s hands away and tore his shirt the rest of the way open. A button flew off and pinged on the coffee table, but Spy was oblivious to that. He was concentrating very hard on not embarrassing himself, because that impatience, that uncharacteristic carelessness was what had entranced him in the first place and everything about that one motion nearly made him come right there and then. Ever since day one, when he’d caught the Australian’s eye over the fence dividing their bases, he’d known he wanted to run his hands all over that tanned body and make that man forget his own name.

To have found that white business card whilst meeting an informant at the bowling alley had been a blessing.

It had also kept him company for a fair while and every other night he’d had to cram his glove into his mouth to muffle his moans when he fancied he could smell the scent of Sniper’s skin on the card. Now, though, he had the real thing.

And it was every bit as untamed and sloppy and hideously-gorgeous as he had hoped. With a careless gesture, he threw out his arms and invited Sniper to start undressing him. For just a moment, the excitement in the other man’s amber eyes dimmed. His hands fumbled when they took hold of Spy’s collar and all at once, that confidence Spy had worked so hard to coax out of him was gone and Sniper was as he always was. Cool, collected, reserved. Spy was surprised, but he adapted quickly.

“I-uh...Don’t want to-“

“Listen, ” Spy murmured, gripping Sniper’s hands and leaning in close to make sure his breath tickled the other man’s ear, “I'm guessing it's been a while for you, hmm?”

He felt Sniper bristle with caution, but pressed on anyway.

“How'd you figure that out?”

Spy chuckled and directed Sniper to begin unbuttoning his shirt with less roughness than he had invited earlier.

"Oh, any number of things." he said vaguely as Sniper worked, noting how the other man was trying to hide his nerves.

Spy hadn't expected such delicacy, but he found it was a look he enjoyed on Sniper. His fantasies of being pinned down to the bed by that lean frame gave way to softer ideas, of studying the way his hair would muss when he arched up off the covers and how he might push back almost shyly on his cock-

_Slow down, Rene._

The calluses on Sniper's hands felt wonderful when they teased across his skin. The shirt was slid gently from his shoulders, and it fell to the floor with a sigh. Smiling, Spy pulled Sniper in for another deep kiss, encouraging something softer and more refined than their previous clash. As Sniper pressed closer to him, Spy worked with deft hands to pop each button of his shirt open. He convinced it off of Sniper's body without breaking the kiss, but he was stopped in his quest by a firm pair of hands that tangled with his own. Spy obediently left the zipper of Sniper's fly alone. Sniper seemed reluctant to meet his eyes, so Spy put his hands to work elsewhere, running encouragingly over his chest.

"I promise to be gentle."

"It's-uh, not that, I mean. 'm just..." and Sniper's confession as to what was unnerving him so much trailed off into a shrug. Spy framed his jaw gently in his hands, directing the taller man's gaze to his own.

"Is this because there is someone else now?"

"What? No! I just...Just feel kinda self-conscious is all."

Spy blinked in surprise, but masked it quickly. He strived for an impartial tone, though that was very hard to do when he felt like he was going to explode down there, but he just about managed it.

"I know that I call you a bushman, but do not ever think that is said out of disgust." Sniper's eyes lit with curiosity as Spy carried on, "because you are surely one of the most good-looking men on the face of the Earth. Don't believe me?"

Spy took hold of one of Sniper's hands and brought it to rest between them. He bit back a hiss at the feeling of that hand coming to rest on his erection, and the urge that followed to grind against it. There was a moment when Sniper seemed to fight with himself, but then a devious sort of smile broke out on his face, and he began to make teasing motions with the hand Spy had placed on his cock. With the other, he resumed unzipping his fly.

"Oh, I believe you now, mate. But you might come to regret that later."

Spy couldn't help the moan that provoked, and all pretence he had of keeping it together faded into the dry-charged wind rushing around outside.

He eagerly pressed closer, peppering Sniper's neck with little nips and kisses, only moving away to give the other man the chance to kick off his trousers and then to do the same to himself. Soon enough, they were both finally naked, and that seemed to remove whatever vestiges of apprehension that remained on Sniper's part.

With a gentle push to the shoulders, he encouraged Spy to fall back on the edge of the bed with a gasp of surprise. No longer nervous, but feeling the need to re-acquaint himself with the body of another man, Sniper gave little warning as he knelt between Spy's knees and teased at the head of his cock with his tongue experimentally. Spy immediately when ram-rod stiff and the gasp that left his chest was broken and shuddery as he sat back up, combing hands through Sniper's hair as he worked.

Sniper had assumed he was out of practice, but those gentle fingers more insistently pulled him away after only a few moments. Spy answered his look with words heaved out between ragged breaths.

"You...Dieu...Any more of that and I would have come already."

Sniper took that as a compliment and with a lop-sided grin, joined Spy on the bed. The kissing resumed immediately, and one of Spy's hands found its way to his cock and began stroking on it firmly and damn, but that was nice. He was tempted to leave things just like that, but Spy's tugs were becoming repetitive and a little impatient.

"So-how we gonna do this?" he said breathlessly.

Spy felt both uncertain and excited to love another man like this. Normally, he was on the receiving end, and it'd been a while since he'd had the chance to enjoy an altogether different sensation. But Sniper was out of practice, and as mean-hearted as he was, Spy wasn't going to subject him to anything too rough and tumble. He made a show of thinking about it for a moment, humming in thought, if only to see that giddy grin come back onto the other man's face.

"Hmm...On your back, cher, yes, like that." he suggested, not so much needing to help Sniper assume the standard missionary position but using it as an excellent excuse to get some more skin to skin contact. A pillow was scooted up into the small of Sniper's back, his ankles resting on Spy's shoulders. A little unease had come back into Sniper's expression as he realised what he was just about to do and he licked his lips nervously. That, and the blush creeping up from his neck, again nearly made Spy come undone.

"Just-Just give me some warning, yeah?"

Spy smiled softly and pressed a little kiss to Sniper's ankle bone. He knew that he could get going straight away if he wanted to: Sniper had surely readied himself enough earlier during that glorious show in the bathroom, but Spy wanted to treasure that little moment for himself, and it would do no harm to ease him into this again.

"Of course, cher, but I don't want to hurt you. Did you bring supplies?"

It took a moment for Sniper to catch on and Spy couldn't help but grin at the look of realisation that crossed Sniper's face.

"I-yeah: on the shelf in the bathroom."

Spy pressed another little kiss to Sniper's ankle and Sniper closed his eyes in anticipation. The wonderful warmth embracing his legs was gone, and he could hear Spy's quiet footsteps as he padded into the bathroom. The wind outside was coming a little quicker now, blustering around the windowpanes in gusts and eddies that made the blinds rattle gently. Dogs barked at each other some way away and then fell quiet again.

Spy's hands were tracing soothing patterns over his legs without any sound or warning. Sniper decided to keep his eyes closed for now, in case he saw something that made his nerves get the better of him. He wanted this, damnit, and he'd have to trust Spy to keep his word. He heard the snap-top of the lube bottle being opened, then felt a fingertip tracing gently around him.

"If you need me to stop, just say." Spy murmured quietly before beginning to slip a finger inside. Sniper moaned from somewhere back in his throat. Thanks to his earlier efforts, there was nothing but pleasure attached to that digit, and the one that slid in beside it. Spy concentrated on Sniper's reactions; the little half-gasps and pants; the way his free hands would clench in the sheets; the twitches and shudders that moved through him. With some care, he crooked his fingers and pressed around delicately until he found that spot that made Sniper's eyes fly open and his back arch up off the bed.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Does it hurt?"

"God, no, don't stop!" Sniper croaked.

Spy carefully worked in a third finger and made a few firmer strokes, making sure Sniper was properly ready. The blush had spread into his cheeks now, accompanied by a similar tone pulsing in the head of his cock. Spy thought he should be hailed as a saint for his patience as he quietly rolled on a condom and spread lube onto his cock, sighing at the stimulation. He pulled out his fingers gently, wiping off the worst of the lube on the bedspread, before resuming those soothing touches up and down Sniper's legs. He could feel the other man's muscles flickering and pulling taught as his fingertips drifted up and down, encouraging him to stay relaxed.

"Are you ready?"

"God yes." Sniper said, not caring how his voice broke lowly on the last word. He felt Spy carefully line himself up and a jolt went through him because _holy shit, I'd forgotten how big some things were compared to my fingers and oh-_

_My. God._

Sniper's mouth opened silently and his eyes screwed shut as Spy slid into him. Heat and pressure knotted beautifully in his pelvis and he could feel that little spot inside him sparking to be touched again. The fine hair around Spy's crotch prickled delightfully at him. Spy's thumbs traced circles around his ankles. He held still and Sniper was dimly aware of how patient he'd been with him, and that he was waiting for some final word of encouragement.

"Please." was all that came to Sniper's lips whispered in what can only be described as nervous need.

That was evidently enough, as Spy began to pull out again, before sliding in with a firmer movement. He strained to keep his pace slow and steady, allowing Sniper time to adjust, but he knew already he wasn't going to last long. He felt no shame in that though; he'd been wanting this for so long, he didn't want to wait anymore.

There was nothing more to be said between them, as both men found themselves lost in sensations only dimly remembered from times gone past. Spy panted softly and steadily between his teeth and Sniper took deep, ragged breaths whenever Spy had the correct angle to make stars dance in his eyes. The room quickly became hot and sticky, as they shared body heat and the storm outside grew closer and closer to town, sending wave upon wave of humidity chasing across the Earth.

As he felt the knotting and pressure in his belly grow, Spy's thrusts became faster and a little rougher. Tiny sparks of pain joined with the waves of pleasure racing through Sniper's body, but that only served to build him higher, the gasps shuddering past his lips being accompanied by whines and moans that were music to Spy's ears. Sniper's heart pounded in his ears and all of a sudden, his orgasm came upon him. With a deep moan, he arched up and painted his belly white. He would wake in the morning with aches and pains from muscles until then unused, but he looked forwards to it.

Spy was only a few seconds behind him, that wonderful sight having cut short what remained of his respectable stamina.

"Ah, Dieu, I'm going to-"

And that was all he could get out before his sporadic thrusts finally petered out and he came, feeling Sniper clench around him through the thin latex of the condom. Snippets of French curses came to mind and ended up only half-uttered as he tried to string his orgasm out. Unfortunately, the bliss was only a few seconds, and then he was aware of Sniper blinking groggily, and that he was still up to his balls in another man's ass. He carefully extricated himself from Sniper's limbs, disappearing only for a moment to wrap the used condom up and dump it in the bathroom bin. Then he was back, with more of those gentle touches. This time, though, Sniper felt that they were a shade more hesitant, more cautious, as though Spy was worried he might bruise beneath those delicate explorations.

The storm outside was just casting it's shadow over Teufort. The thickness and stifling heat in the air was unbearable now, and the first primeval shudders of thunder, too deep to be heard properly, growled through the earth.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

A wry smile came to Sniper's lips, and he kept his eyes closed to appreciate better the shy affection Spy was showing him.

"Not in any way I didn't want you to."

A pause.

"If I'd known you were such a good screw, I'd have put that card up a hell of a lot earlier."

It was, in some respects, a genuine compliment. But it was also lewd and a little unrefined, somewhat like Sniper himself, and the sweetness of the moment evaporated. Deed done, Spy sniffed elegantly and rose from the bed, which groaned in protest. Back muscles aching only lightly, Sniper sat up and watched the other man retrieve his boxers. Spy pulled them on, followed shortly by his slacks, though those he left fetchingly undone at the fly.

That sight, of Spy beautifully, rakishly ruffled, nearly naked and with post-orgasmic blush colouring his collarbones, made Sniper wonder if there was to be a second round. He hoped very much there would be.

Apparently unaware of his undone appeal, Spy muttered little nothings to himself as he dug through his trouser pockets, looking for something. After a moment, he produced two somewhat crumpled cigarettes, placing one in the corner of his mouth before wordlessly offering the other to Sniper.

"I-uh. Sorry, mate, I don't smoke."

Nonplussed, Spy shrugged, opening a silver Zippo with a click before lighting up. As he puffed gently on the cigarette, another roll of thunder shuddered through the town. This time, it was loud enough that both of them glanced at the window: Sniper with apprehension, Spy with restrained glee. Sniper saw that expression cross his face, but before he could mention it, Spy had taken two impressive drags on the cigarette and pinched the end out, saving it for later.

"Well, I'm going to take a shower. Join me if you wish."

Sniper watched him go into the bathroom, a small frown deepening on his face when he heard water start to run. Such domesticity from a BLU! Another roll of thunder rumbled out, and the room was dark enough now with the cloud cover that Sniper reached over and turned on a bedside light, bathing the room in a creamy orange glow. The town was stifling in the humid heat of the storm now, and Sniper felt as though he might drown in the ruffled sheets of the bed, so he got up and sipped at his now-flat beer.

Suddenly, lightning struck somewhere in the heart of the desert. The heavens opened. Rain swooped across the parched earth in a silvery sheet, silent up until the moment it began to fall outside the window. The roar was astounding. The clouds were so thick that it was practically night outside: Teufort sweltered under the watch of the thundering rain.

Another roll of thunder, this time accompanied by a flash of lightning that turned the room stark white for a moment before fading away again. A shiver wracked Sniper's frame and an instant later, another barrage of thunder and lightning. The bedside lamp flickered out with a whimper, and the hum of the ceiling fan fell silent.

From the bathroom, a muffled French curse.

Sniper swallowed. It was going to be a long, hot night.


End file.
